


like a vintage red

by orphan_account



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, F/M, Gay Bucky Barnes, M/M, Matchmaker Natasha Romanov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-25
Updated: 2016-11-25
Packaged: 2018-09-02 04:59:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8651920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: “I don’t know what I’m doing,” Bucky admits in his most aw-shucks tone. “My friend, she wants me to bring a bottle for dinner and I don’t really know a thing about wine.”
Steve smiles. His eyes are a bright, clear blue and they crinkle a little at the corners. “Well, I think I can help you with that.” He glances at the selection Bucky had been eyeing. “Were you told to get a moderately high-end Bordeaux?” His brow lifts as he speaks and he sounds a little amused; Bucky is blushing for real now because he’s starting to feel a little less suave and more like an idiot.
“Just tell me what to buy, smartass,” he mutters.
 
  AKA Natasha assigns Bucky to wine duty for Thanksgiving and Bucky finds a little more than wine at the store.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I meant to post this yesterday but didn't, so here's a random Thanksgiving AU one day too late. Oops.

Bucky feels a little overwhelmed as he stares at the rows upon rows of wine.

He doesn’t _do_ wine. He drinks vodka by the barrel and enjoys scotch on occasion, but when he’d asked Natasha if he could bring anything for Thanksgiving she’d suggested a bottle or two of wine because while he knows she will (and he will) be dipping into her supply of Russian vodka, there are other guests to cater to.

On his way to her place, he’d stopped at a wine store.

_Barrel_ isn’t one of those tiny boutiques that scare him (mostly because the staff will probably laugh at him or sell him something ridiculously overpriced without him knowing and then laugh at him _later_ ), nor is it one of those gigantic liquor stores that are dimly lit and depressing. This place is somewhere in between, brightly lit and colorful with helpful signs posted beside each product.

Except, he still has no fucking clue what he’s doing.

He’s staring at a Chateau-something-or-another from 1995 that’s priced at $89.99 when somebody walks up beside him.

“Hey there.” The voice is low but friendly. “You look a little lost.”

Bucky turns and sees… wow, possibly the most beautiful man he has ever laid eyes on. Tall, with broad shoulders that arrow down into a narrow waist (although the starchy, burgundy button-down he wears is admittedly unflattering). His nametag reads Steve and according to the caption beneath it, he’s a _Helpful Wine Supervisor_.

While he’d planned to just grab whatever looked decent and cheap, Bucky decides he can play this out because why not. He puts on his most charming smile and rakes a hand through his long, dark hair. “I don’t know what I’m doing,” he admits in his most _aw-shucks_ tone. “My friend, she wants me to bring a bottle for dinner and I don’t really know a thing about wine.”

Steve smiles. His eyes are a bright, clear blue and they crinkle a little at the corners. “Well, I think I can help you with that.” He glances at the selection Bucky had been eyeing. “Were you told to get a moderately high-end Bordeaux?” His brow lifts as he speaks and he sounds a little amused; Bucky is blushing for real now because he’s starting to feel a little less suave and more like an idiot.

“Just tell me what to buy, smartass,” he mutters. Steve continues to smile at him and guides him in a different direction.

“This is an excellent pinot noir,” Steve says, picking up a bottle. “It has a rich, cherry flavor that’s complemented by notes of cedar and raspberry.” He pauses and gives Bucky a _look_. “Although, talking to you right now I’ll just say that it pairs well with turkey, tastes amazing, and isn’t expensive.”

“That’s what I wanted to hear,” Bucky says. “All that other shit you said went right over my head.”

“I sort of figured.” Steve laughs and his laugh is kind of great. Low and light. Bucky takes the bottle from him and Steve nods in another direction, “Let me show you one more bottle. I mean, if you were willing to pay almost a hundred bucks for something you knew nothing about, I think you can swing for another inexpensive bottle to please your friend.”

“Honest but true,” Bucky says. Steve claps a hand on his shoulder and squeezes gently. His grip is firm, strong, and god—Bucky wants to know what his hands would feel like on the rest of his body. But that’s inappropriate. He’s here for wine. That’s all. He has an entire day ahead of him and… shit, Steve’s hand is still on his shoulder as he leads him and Bucky doesn’t even care anymore. He’ll just enjoy it.

At the end of his shopping trip, he winds up with five bottles of wine. Two pinots, two cabs, and somehow a sparkling wine because apparently it’s a palate cleanser. As he heads for the check stand, Steve lays a hand on his arm—again with the _touching_ and Bucky knows he’s going to use the memory tonight when he’s alone in bed. Steve hands him a business card. “My name’s Steve, by the way,” he says.

“Yeah.” Bucky nods. “I know. I mean, nametag.”

“Oh. Right.” Steve glances down. “You don’t have a nametag, though.”

Bucky smiles. He says, “Bucky,” and moves to shake his hand.

They shake and Steve repeats, “Bucky.” He looks like he wants to laugh, but doesn’t. He doesn’t even question the stupid nickname. “Nice to meet you, Bucky.” His hand lingers. “There’s um—there’s a link on the card—you can rate my service today. If you want.”

“I will.” Bucky pauses, but a wave of customers come into the store and Steve’s gaze drifts toward them. Bucky says, “You should go, I guess. Hopefully you don’t work too late.”

“Only a couple more hours. I’m headed to a friend’s, after,” he says.

“Cool,” says Bucky. “Have a nice night.”

“You too.”

They share another smile and then Bucky heads to check out.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Bucky is the first to arrive at Natasha’s.

She has a beautiful brownstone in the upper eastside. Natasha is easily the smartest person Bucky knows and she works for Stark Industries as the head of his IT department (although Bucky silently suspects she’s much more since she has somehow managed to snag Tony Stark and Pepper Potts as her dinner guests before they head to the gala they’re hosting later on).

He’d volunteered to help her prep the meal. He enjoys cooking, having spent most of his childhood helping his mother with dinner or simply making it himself once he was old enough.

When he sets the wine on the counter, Natasha looks a little surprised.

“What?” He asks. He glances back at the bottles and curses. “Did I do a terrible job? Fuck. I knew I’d screw this up. Why didn’t you tell Sam to bring the wine? He actually drinks it.”

“No.” Natasha shakes her head. “It’s just—I was kind of looking forward to making fun of whatever you brought, but this is surprisingly good. I’m impressed.”

“Thank you for not believing in me.” Bucky ties his hair back in a messy bun and then leans over to place a sloppy kiss against Natasha’s cheek. She pushes him away and he laughs before he admits, “But I went to this wine store a super hot associate told me what to buy.”

“Did you fuck him?” Natasha wipes her cheek with a napkin and quirks her brow in a way that tells Bucky she isn’t actually joking. He rolls his eyes.

“Yes, Nat. I fucked him behind the wine bar.” He huffs. “He was nice. And he was honest. That’s all.”

Natasha shrugs. “Not the juicy details I wanted, but whatever. Good job.” She pauses and as he begins to wash his hands she adds, “But for the record, I know you blew that grocery clerk in the dairy fridge so don’t act like public sex is out of line for you.”

He scrubs his hands and sighs. “Joseph,” he says, a little wistful. It had been cold but kind of amazing (and three years ago, for what it’s worth—he probably wouldn’t do it now… at least, he doesn’t think he would). But he does say, “I’m not even going to deny it because he had an amazing cock.”

“I think it’s time to break out the vodka,” Natasha comments.

As Bucky dries his hands, he points at her. “I like the way you think.”

Natasha begins to prep their drinks while Bucky begins to peel, slice and julienne.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The other guests begin to arrive throughout the afternoon.

Sam and Maria bring a few pies, Clint brings something that Bucky assumes is meant to be green bean bake (although he’s happy he and Nat had made their own green bean bake), and Tony brings what appears to be an elaborate array of appetizers picked up from a restaurant while Pepper has an elegant sweet potato casserole (that she tells them was her grandmother’s recipe and she hopes it had worked out).

“Everything looks great,” Maria comments as they set the table.

Bucky and Natasha had made the turkey along with most of the sides. Bucky and Maria set the additional sides and pies out. Everyone had spent the afternoon enjoying Tony’s (absurdly extravagant) appetizers, watching whatever they could find on TV (which turned out to be Thanksgiving-themed episodes of Friends), and drinking.

Everybody is beginning to settle down at the dining table for dinner when the doorbell rings once more. “Can you get that?” Natasha calls from the kitchen.

“Sure,” Bucky yells back.

He walks toward the door and when he opens it he’s met with… Steve.

“Um.” He swallows thickly. “Hi,” he says.

“Hi.” Steve smiles, that same great smile.

Rather than that horrible, burgundy button-down, he wears a soft, cable-knit grey sweater and jeans. His eyes look even bluer and the sweater actually flatters his frame.

“You look nice,” Bucky comments.

“You too.” Steve smiles. Bucky’s still wearing his same jeans and red Henley, but he knows the outfit compliments his best assets.

“Oh.” Natasha saunters up beside them. “James, this is Steve. Steve, this is James.” She _winks_ and then walks off again. Over her shoulder she calls, “Dinner is ready, join us in the dining room.”

There’s a beat before Steve asks, “James?” His eyes are wide and Bucky shrugs.

“Bucky’s a nickname,” he admits. “Nat’s the only one who calls me James because she thinks, and I quote, _Bucky is a stupid fucking nickname_. But my family uses it and all my friends do so…” He shrugs.

“It’s not stupid,” says Steve. “It’s… well, it’s different, but it’s kind of cool. And, uh—well, earlier this week Natasha found out I had no plans for Thanksgiving and invited me. Plus, she said I might like her friend James…”

“Well, you _might_ like James… but I think you might like Bucky more.”

He kicks back into his suave mode, but he has a feeling he doesn’t have to work Steve because Steve is cute and sweet and when he says, “I already like Bucky,” Bucky is basically _gone_. He’s used to wanting to fuck people, but this is probably the first time he’s wanted to fuck somebody, cuddle them after, and then make them breakfast in the morning.

“Dully noted,” Bucky says with a wink, although he can feel how hot his cheeks are because apparently blushing is a thing he just _does_ now. “Well, “ he nods toward the dining room and asks, “Wanna sit next to me?”

“Knowing Natasha, she probably already has us seated together,” Steve comments and Bucky nods.

“True,” he says, and they head for the dining room.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Bucky learns that Steve is a grad student at NYU and has an internship in PR at Stark Industries. That’s how he met Natasha. His job at the wine shop pays the bills and he actually does enjoy wine, but he enjoys vodka as well because he can appreciate the sip he takes from Bucky’s glass (which is simply vodka on the rocks because he’s a purist).

When Bucky tells Steve about his time in the service and that he now works temp jobs around city and doesn’t really know what he wants to do with his life, Steve doesn’t even blink.

"I didn't know what I wanted to do until I was almost 25," Steve says. "I still don't know if I want this, but I enjoy it."

"That's what I want," says Bucky. "I want to enjoy what I do."

"You will," Steve replies. "Eventually."

Bucky takes a moment to just look at Steve because damn, beautiful and insightful. It’s refreshing.

“I thought you were super cute when I met you,” Bucky tells him after dinner.

They’d helped Natasha wash the dishes and are now they’re each enjoying a slice of pie. Tony and Pepper have already left for the gala and Sam and Maria are watching some rom-com on the television (with conventionally attractive white people in scarves).

“Yeah. I, uh—I thought you were really cute too," Steve responds. "I was a little conflicted because I knew Natasha had somebody set up for me later on, but then…” He trails off.

“But then I was that somebody,” Bucky finishes, and Steve flushes a little while he nods.

“Yep.” He huffs a soft laugh. “Small world.”

“Extremely,” Bucky agrees.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The next morning, when Steve wakes up, Bucky is typing at his laptop.

“What’re you doin’?” Steve asks, shifting closer and kissing his shoulder.

“Rating your service for that stupid link on your business card.”

“Oh, god.” Steve laughs into his skin. Bucky closes his eyes for a moment and enjoys the feeling. “What are you saying?” Asks Steve.

Bucky leans back and looks at his screen. “Well, I said that your service was excellent and your recommendations were incredible. I also said that you give really great head, which is a plus.” He flashes Steve a smile.

“If you actually send that I will murder you. For real.”

“Why?” Bucky blinks at him innocently. “I thought it would get you a raise.”

“All they really do is post the reviews on the wall in our break room.”

Bucky draws a breath in and smiles because the thought brings him entirely too much joy. “If they post that on the wall, I will demand a picture and I will frame it. Forever and ever because it will be one of my greatest accomplishments.”

“Other than serving your country,” Steve comments.

Bucky shrugs, because point. He says, “Well, one of my greatest accomplishments.”

“You’re an idiot.” Steve pushes him back against his pillow and Bucky sets his laptop aside. As Steve begins to kiss him he mumbles, “A beautiful idiot who is extremely talented with his tongue.”

Bucky simply smiles into the kiss and wonders what he’ll make Steve for breakfast.


End file.
